The More I See You
by Marker Sniffing Productions
Summary: Cabin Pressure fic based off of a M*A*S*H script. Martin/OC, and one-sided Douglas/Martin if you read between the lines. :


**A/N: My first Cabin Pressure fic, so please be gentle. I want to thank my beta Bored Whovian! Now, enjoy...**

**A/N 2: I got some feedback saying it was hard to follow. I made some revisions and hope it helps.**

* * *

Martin and Douglas sighed as another minute ticked off while they were forced to wait at Fitton airfield. Their client was due at some point between five and seven and they were so very _bored_.

"Bored." Douglas nodded.

"So bored." He replied. Martin's mouth twitched in a slight smile, sensing a word game coming on.

"So bored, it's boring." Douglas chuckled, catching on to the word game.

"Boring-a-ding-ding." Martin made a soft noise.

"Boronis, boreedus, boreemus." Douglas glanced over at him. "I came, I saw, I bored." Douglas chuckled.

"He bored, she bored, they bored." Both Douglas and Martin were smiling at their game.

"All aboard!" Douglas actually looked aghast.

"I was going to say that." Martin smirked.

"Sure." There was movement in the airfield that made Martin perk up. "Hello, hello."

"What, what?" Douglas sat up as well. Martin pointed at the two slender figures following Carolyn to the hangar GERTI was in.

"Company." Martin replied.

"Is it our client?" Martin shook his head. Douglas' eyes lit up. "Ah, new stewardesses? Business has been good lately after all."

"Maybe loaners. You never know, Arthur could be going into the shop." Martin and Douglas chuckled. One of the women's voices carried over to the portacabin on the wind.

"This is MJN Air?"

Martin paled.

"Don't tell me, don't even think it." Douglas blinked, glancing at the redhead.

"What's wrong?" Martin shook his head.

"There are five international airports in England, three charter plane firms, I don't how many private airports, military bases, whatever, and she was hired here."

"Which one?"

"The one on the right." Douglas looked closer at the woman as best he could. He could make out blond waves, a nice figure, and long legs.

"Very attractive." Martin nodded.

"Completely forgettable looks," he swallowed, "that stay with you forever." Douglas fully looked at the younger one.

"Sounds like we're getting into flashback country." They could see the women turn when Carolyn gestured towards the portacabin and Martin ducked from the window. Douglas blinked.

"... You've got to be kidding Martin."

"What's that?" Douglas gestured to him.

"You just hid." Martin blinked.

"Who hid?"

"You did hid." Martin crossed his arms.

"I haven't hidden since I was three. Sometimes I'm sorry they ever found me." With a sigh, his entire body seemed to sag against the wall. Douglas swallowed.

"...You want to talk?" Martin swallowed once, twice, and thrice before opening his mouth.

"We were involved for a time. During my university years, my, uh, university years, uh, in, uh Bristol." Douglas nodded.

"Uh-huh." Martin nodded.

"Wonderful girl. Good kid." Douglas took in his deer in headlights look.

"You always react like this to good kids?" Martin swallowed.

"We were close. Pretty close."

"What happened?" Douglas pressed. Martin shrugged.

"Nothing happened."

"You saw a lot of each other?" Martin nodded.

"Couldn't help it. We were living together." Douglas 'hmm'ed.

"The plot thickens." Martin glanced away, cheeks flaming.

"Not long—year, year and a half."

"Not long." Douglas smirked. Martin looked up and then glanced away again when he noticed Douglas' smirk.

"We had a small flat. Painted it ourselves." He smiled softly. "My hands were hunter green for a week." His smiled faltered. "It busted up, sort of."

"You left her." Martin lifted his chin.

"The minute after she left me." Douglas watched as Martin appeared to deflate again and he felt a small sliver of empathy for the younger man.

"What's her name?" Martin blinked.

"Her name?" Douglas rolled his eyes.

"I know you were young but you must have had names." Martin sighed.

"Carlye. C-A-R-L-Y-E."

"Carlye? Unusual."

"Carlye Breslin, altogether unusual." Martin took a deep breath. "I don't, uh, I don't mind her being here. No, I really don't think I really mind at all." Douglas watched as Martin picked up a book, fiddling through the pages.

"Is that why you're reading Arthur's journal?" Martin shut the book quickly and set it back down.

"She can't help whoever hires her." He sighed. "It's just of all the people to join our crew, why the hell did it have to be her?" He took another deep breath. "I think I'll check this out. Find out how long she's staying, you know?" Douglas nodded. "Maybe she's not even staying. Maybe it's not ever her."

"Maybe you're not even you." Martin nodded.

"Right." He strode to the door and paused with his hand on the handle. "It's me. It's her. It's us." He left and Douglas sighed.

* * *

Martin found Arthur attempting to feed some pigeons out behind the hangar. The young steward looked up with a wide smile.

"Hello Skip."

"Arthur, two new women just turned up in the airport. Did your mum hire them or are they just passing through."

"They're all ours, brand new stewardess and electrician." Arthur pulled out a note card that had their names written on it (so he could remember their names). "There's a Carlye Walton and a Becky Anderson." Martin's eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Walton?"

"Do you know her?"

"Not by that name." Arthur shrugged.

"Well, maybe it's a married one. Mum said they were both married." Arthur blinked. "What, was she not before?" Martin's eyes widened before he managed to turn on his heel and stumble back to the portacabin.

* * *

Douglas and Martin had gone to go make a little gift basket (Martin a bit reluctantly) and returned to find the two new women in the portacabin. Douglas knocked.

"Anybody home?"

"Men are here with your welcome." Martin smiled.

Inside Carlye paused and spun around as Becky let them in. Douglas turned his charming smile towards them.

"How do?" Martin took over with surprising confidence.

"We greet you on behalf of the flight crew, ground crews, and deviants of MJN Air." Becky looked giddy with excitement, eyes not leaving the pair of them.

"I'm Becky Anderson." Douglas and Martin nodded towards her. Carlye stood up a little straighter, her surprise at Martin gone.

"Carlye Walton." Martin smiled and gestured to Douglas.

"This is First Officer Douglas Richardson." Becky giggled. "I'm Captain Martin Crieff." Carlye blinked.

"You're the Captain?" Her eyes travelled to his sleeves. "Ah, four rings." Douglas smirked. Martin seemed to forgive her much more readily than others.

"Douglas, give the little lady a cigar." Douglas reached into the basket.

"Cigar." He passed it to Becky. "We have anything you might conceivably wish to smoke."

"Gee, thanks." Douglas smiled and Martin glanced at Carlye and then back to Becky.

"Think nothing of it. My partner and I come with extra table leaves just so we can-"

"Extend ourselves for you." Carlye joined Martin. The redhead's smile widened fractionally before he turned to Douglas.

"Tell our first couple what else they've won."

"This apple and lemon." Douglas tossed the apple to Becky and Martin tossed the lemon to Carlye.

"To cure in-flight boredom." Becky and Carlye chuckled. Douglas reached into the basket again.

"This bottle of Covenant Cabernet Sauvignon 2006." Becky's cheek flushed as Douglas passed it to her. "To be enjoyed on its own."

"Thank you." Douglas reached into the basket again.

"And last, but certainly most, five hundred sheets of the famous MJN Air stationary." Douglas pulled out a roll of toilet paper making Becky and Carlye fight back bursts of laughter. Martin's smile widened when he saw Carlye smile.

"Very handy for writing your lawyer. It's obvious you've struck a pilot or embezzled a company's funds or ravaged a steward. Only creeps work for MJN Air." Martin chided. Carlye chuckled. Douglas cleared his throat.

"That's the end of our goodies. If there's anything else we can do to make working here more bearable..."

"There's a flight crew lounge in an old fuselage behind Hangar 2. It's called "The Galley". Stop by for a small drink after a flight." Becky nodded quickly.

"Oh thank you." Martin nodded and glanced at his watch.

"We're expecting a client around six so my First Officer and I need to go to GERTI." Becky was all smiles as they left the portacabin.

"I love him." Carlye smirked.

"Which one?" Becky looked at her.

"I don't care." Carlye shook her head. She had been a bit amazed that Martin hadn't stuttered at all. Maybe it was because he was over her and Becky wasn't his type. Carlye made a soft noise. Was he _really_ over her?

* * *

Martin looked up at the knock on the fuselage door. He swallowed and found his voice. "Come." Carlye came in and he felt his heart beat just a bit faster. "Carlye?" She glanced around.

"Well, it's very 'aeroplane'." Martin smiled.

"We did it without a decorator." She returned the smile.

"Little hunter green wouldn't hurt."

"Sorry all out." Silence fell between them, Martin getting lost in her eyes again. He broke out of it and turned towards the bar. "I-I promised you a drink." She sat down and he grabbed two bottles. "You have your choice, scotch or scotch." She smiled.

"I'll leave it up to you." Martin poured two glasses. He handed her the cool glass and sat down next to her. "Thank you." She lifted her glass. "To old friends."

"Old friends." Martin worked to keep the bitterness out of his voice. She set the glass down and looked at him.

"How are you Martin? Are you well?" Martin shrugged.

"How do I look?" She tilted her head, appraising him.

"Little thinner, little paler," she giggled, "a couple of gray hairs." Martin shook his head.

"These aren't mine. I'm breaking in Douglas' senility." She let out a small, forced chuckle. He sighed. "You all right?"

"Yeah, fine." Silence settled between them again.

"So..." She smiled.

"I was going to say that." Martin smiled.

"Tell me about Mr. Walton."

"He's in advertising." Martin made a wry face.

"Oh, advertising." Carlye's eyes flashed.

"Ah, is that white smoke coming out of your ears meaning you've just elected yourself pope?" Martin looked at her.

"Any children?" She shook her head.

"No, not yet, we're still talking about that."

"That's not how you get them. I just read a paper on that." She made a soft noise.

"How about you? Children?" Martin shook his head.

"No, I'm still my only child." Carlye looked closely at him.

"Is there a Mrs. Martin Crieff?" Martin shook his head again.

"My ring finger is clean. I remain unbetrothed, my bachelorhood intact—a solitary figure seemingly sentenced to singleness." A bit of bitterness seeped into his voice. Carlye sighed softly.

"You're trying too hard." Martin stilled. "Are you uncomfortable? I'll stop pressing." She took another sip of her scotch. Martin swirled his in his glass.

"I've thought about you, wondered how you were, what happened after you left." Carlye shrugged.

"Well mostly I...got married."

"But not to me." Martin frowned and Carlye looked up sharply.

"When was the first, last, or any time in between that you ever asked me?" Martin set his glass down.

"Carlye, I was in university and learning to fly a plane. If I'd had two tails, I'd have worked them both off. I couldn't get married then." Carlye shook her head.

"Then or ever." Martin swallowed.

"I was struggling, broke—remember? I used to fight the cat for scraps."

"Other men have done it." Carlye shrugged.

"What men? What other? Y-Y-Your advertiser?"

"Richard." Carlye supplied.

"Richard, right. Figures." Martin rolled his eyes.

"Richard was struggling when we got married." Carlye sighed. Martin rose to his feet.

"Struggling in advertising? What would have been the loss? One less clot persuading Britain its breath is bad? That they're condemned to purgatory if their armpits don't smell like roses. I was training for something that really helped a country: piloting."

"Maybe if you had been just a little less in love with it you might have needed me a little more. Richard is able to commit to something beyond his work. Happily, I am that something."

"There's been no one since you. Faint copies at best. I can barely talk to women." Martin stilled, wanting to run a hand through her hair like he used to. Carlye swallowed.

"I had to survive." Martin nodded and raised his glass.

"Right. Here's to survival." They finished off their scotch.

"It's going to be difficult, isn't it? Being in the same flight crew." Martin shook his head.

"Not at all. You're an excellent people person. I'm a fantastic pilot. We're here to work—just work." His voice hardened and Carlye made a soft noise.

"Can you do that?" Martin's jaw set.

"Watch me."

She nodded and stood, setting her glass on the bar. "Right. Goodnight Martin."

"Good night." He set his glass on the bar and made a face. "Richard."

* * *

"Everyone ready for takeoff?"

"Yes Martin." Carolyn reported over the intercom. "Carlye is double-checking the galley."

"Hurry it up." He ground out. Carlye's voice came over the intercom.

"You move fast around here."

"We're on a tight schedule and an even tighter budget." His voice was icy and Douglas glanced at him. Martin got no reply and he sighed. "Sorry."

"There's a new word in your vocabulary. Shall I ask to work with the ground crew from now on?" Martin shook his head.

"It isn't a dinner party. You can just rearrange the place cards. You're a stewardess, you work on GERTI."

"I'm just afraid of your voice giving me frostbite. There's no way we can avoid each other." Martin sighed. "Can we talk?" Martin heard Carolyn screech in the background.

"Not now. Later. I know a little corner of the airfield nobody ever uses."

"Is it formal?"

"Black sleeve bars." He turned the intercom off, ignored Douglas looking at him, and focused instead on the flight.

* * *

"Oh, fantastic." Martin smiled as he led Carlye further into the old hangar.

"I knew you'd like it." He pulled an old crate over and set his bag down. He moved two folding chairs over and she sat down.

"Yes, it's very nice—early terrible." Martin pouted.

"Aw, not fair. You're insulting the place and you've only been here five seconds." Carlye smiled.

"I like the way you've done the floor." Her heel scuffed the dirt.

"We have Arthur come in once a week with fresh dirt." Carlye chuckled. Martin had pulled out a couple of beers.

"I was wrong Carlye," she looked at him, beer halfway to her lips, "about what I said at first." She sighed.

"Our first, first or this first?" Martin pulled a weak smile.

"When I said that you and I could just work together—just work. That you were an excellent people person." Her eyes widened.

"I'm not an excellent people person?" Martin quickly shook his head, looking horrified with himself.

"No! No, no, what-are you nuts? You have a 24-karat smile." She smiled, proving his point, and he smiled before sighing. "I don't see how I can possibly behave like a normal human person around you unless I get rid of some of that...unpleasant baggage I've been carrying around for years."

"And my name is on that baggage." He nodded and she gently slipped a hand into his. Martin jerked slightly at the touch but he soon relaxed.

"I hated you for a long time." His voice was soft, quiet. "Passionately. Hate. The real thing. If I'd met you during my celebrated blue period, I don't know what I would have done." She swallowed.

"I know I hurt you Martin." He looked up at her.

"Hurt? You broke my legs. It really tore me apart when you left me." Carlye straightened, taking her hand back.

"There was no reason for you to feel that way. You know, you let it happen." Martin sat up straight as well.

"Well, I still felt betrayed and mad as hell." Carlye swallowed. "Finally, finally, finally, finally, finally, I thought I'd gotten over it. I got over the hate...but I never got over the love. When you came to the airport that first day, I heard this strange sound." He swallowed, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. "It was my heart beating again. One look at you and I got a jump charge. I can't just, just work around you."

Carlye sighed.

"It can't be the way that it was, Martin."

"It could be better." She leaned back.

"Oh, master complicator." Martin smiled softly.

"God forbid anything should ever be easy." He leaned across the crate and gently cupped her cheek.

* * *

Douglas was sitting in The Galley, waiting for Martin. They had fallen into a routine of spending a couple of hours every Tuesday and Thursday (if possible) in the lounge. Douglas had quickly found that, for him at least, Martin didn't just have to talk about flying. However, Martin had skipped last two weeks.

The fuselage door opened and he looked up at Martin.

"Ah, Sir has arrived." Martin nodded.

"I know. I haven't been home much the past few weeks." Douglas shrugged.

"Better that way," Martin looked at him, "you miss me sobbing into my pillow." Martin rolled his eyes and grabbed the scotch bottle.

"I think we're very happy." Douglas nodded.

"I think you'd probably know." Martin sat down across from him.

"...You disapprove." Douglas gave him a look.

"Me? You want disapproval, _you_ disapprove. I'm not the ACME Judgment Company." Martin swallowed his drink, feeling defensive.

"A lot of married people are unfaithful."

"I read that in the Cheater's Almanac." Martin frowned. He decided to take a stab in the dark about Douglas' past.

"You?"

"Me what?"

"Ever been unfaithful?" Douglas took a drink of the apple juice kept just for him.

"To whom?" Martin let out an exasperated noise.

"Who could you be unfaithful to?" Douglas shrugged.

"Well, myself, for openers." Martin shook his head.

"No, you know what I mean—to your wife...wives."

"You mean have I ever strayed?" Martin nodded. "Never." Martin almost sputtered. The mighty Sky God had never strayed?

"Never been tempted?" Douglas shook a finger at him.

"Tempted is another subject." Martin smirked.

"Ah, you have been tempted." Douglas shook his head.

"Never. But it's another subject." Martin stuck his tongue out.

"Rat." Douglas settled down in his seat.

"Look uh...minding my own business is a full-time job. In my spare time, it's my hobby. I can't divide myself emotionally. When I was married, I couldn't break my word to my wife. And not because God will send me to hell without an electric fan or because it's not the right thing to do. I simply didn't want to." Martin sighed and finished off his scotch.

The door flung open and Arthur stumbled in.

"Skip, I've been looking for you. I just saw this on Mum's desk." Martin took the sheet of paper with a confused look. His eyes quickly scanned it and they widened. He thrust the paper back at Arthur and hurried out to GERTI where Carlye would be hoovering the plane.

He quickly opened the door and Carlye looked up at him.

"Oh, hi." Martin blinked.

"'Hi'? I just found out you're quitting. 'Hi'? You'd have to use a diving rod to find a 'hi' in me." Carlye sighed.

"Arthur doesn't waste any time, does he?" Martin shook his head.

"Arthur is my informer, he's my snitch, my friend, my help. If he could fly, he'd be my falcon." Carlye sat down.

"I was going to tell you. I wouldn't have slipped away." Martin nodded.

"Well, it's always worked before."

"Oh, you're still working on last time?"

"Last time turns out to be a warm-up for this time." Martin swallowed. "What are you telling Carolyn?" Carlye sighed.

"The truth. I can't work here with you. With me. The way we are again." Martin felt frustration rising faster and faster within him.

"'Be yourself' you said. Well, myself happens to love you! What can I do?" Carlye shook her head.

"I love you," she cried out in frustration. Martin paused for a second.

"Oh! Now I understand. Since we're in love, there's no possible reason for us to stay together." Carlye shook her head.

"I've always been honest with Richard." Martin shrugged.

"So don't stop."

"I want a divorce." Martin smiled and moved forward, grasping her hand.

"Then it'll be just you and me." Carlye ran a hand through her hair.

"What does that mean?" Martin blinked.

"What does that mean? That means we'll be together. We'll enjoy each other. We'll revel in each other." Carlye sighed. "Oh, what does it really mean? All right, I know, I see, I know, I know." He started pacing around the cabin.

"Look, look, there was a time when I couldn't ask you because...but that was then, that was then, this is now! We're two different people! I know I certainly am." Carlye watched as he walked towards the front of the cabin. "I think I can handle it now, huh? Sure. Of course I can. Listen," he turned to look at her, "why shouldn't we? Why couldn't we? Let's just...let's!"

"Martin!" He froze.

"What?" Carlye gestured to him.

"Look at yourself! Look where you are." He had maneuvered himself into the corner at the front of the cabin. "You're trapped. You've just proposed yourself into a corner."

"So? However I did it, I did it." Carlye exhaled.

"You didn't propose to me. You proposed to yourself." Martin shrugged.

"Well, I wanted to try it out on me first." Carlye sighed.

"Did you hear yourself?"

"No, what did I miss?" Carlye shook her head.

"If you had gone into piloting with the same lack of conviction that you seem to have about marriage you would have been in a grave a long time ago." Martin bristled a bit.

"What should I do, get down on one knee?" Carlye shook her head.

"No, no, no, no. The only convention I care about is the convention where two people can't live without each other. Your work is always going to be the most important single thing in your life. That's fair. That's how it should be. You're a great pilot." She sighed. "I just don't want to take a back seat again. I like it up front." Martin swallowed.

"But we—we don't have to say goodbye now. Carolyn uh...Carolyn will wait for about a week or so."

"Well I asked her to rush it." Martin's slumped.

"Oh." He turned towards the door. "Do me a favour, huh?" She looked up at him.

"Yeah?"

"If anybody, in other words Douglas, asks, say I turned you down." She smiled softly.

"Right."

* * *

"Douglas, can you balance the fuel."

"Right Captain." Martin swallowed. The cockpit was very tense. So much so, that even Arthur wouldn't come in without a tentative knock.

"Douglas..."

"It's alright Martin." Gunmetal blue eyes found rich brown. "I don't judge you, so you can stop judging yourself. It's been almost a fortnight." Martin nodded.

"...Thank you Douglas." The older one nodded.

"And, for future reference, if you want someone who doesn't mind a back seat," Martin stiffened, "find someone who is already _quite_ used to it."

Martin looked over at Douglas, but his First Officer was looking straight ahead. In many ways, Douglas Richardson was used to the back seat with Martin. He had gone from Captain to First Officer, his wife had been cheating on him, and he had gone from Air England to little MJN Air.

Martin swallowed.

"I'll keep that in mind Douglas."


End file.
